H50/Chaos fic: Interagency Cooperation 7/7
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART SEVEN
It’s going badly.
This, truthfully, is putting it mildly. The entire mission has been on a crash course with disaster ever since it started so well. Casey likes to be right most of the time, but it’s an honor he’d rather forego at this point.
That’s not, however, an option at this point
Nothing is an option at this point except doing the job and getting it done.
Which means pulling the bad guys out of the water, one by one, and securing them to the deck.
Which means watching as the boat he set charges for go down.
Which means watching as half of his team faces probable imminent peril.
Which means pulling Billy’s lifeless body out of the water with the same dutiful impassivity as the rest.
It’s a cold act, and Casey forces himself to be clinical about it. After all, Billy’s not the only victim and even if he’s the only one who matters to Casey, he’s not the only one who matters.
Yet, as Casey turns his attention to the two men in front of him, it’s a hard act to keep up. Casey has trained for years, forced his body and mind and soul into a strict compliance, and he’s flawless. He’s impeccable. There’s no challenge he can’t conquer. He’s made sure of that.
But he doesn’t feel flawless now. On his knees, staring down at Billy, he feels anything but.
The Scot is dripping wet, his spiky tufts of hair matted to his head. His face, which is usually so exuberant and telling, is simply blank. He’s colorless for the most part, but his lips and eyelids are tainted blue, the telltale sign of death.
Because Billy is dead. Just as readily as Detective Williams next to him. They drowned on that boat - the boat that Casey helped sink. He didn’t mean for that, of course. He meant to disable it, knock its engines out. He can’t say for sure what went wrong, but he has a feeling they neglected to consider any possible firearms in the cargo area.
It’s more bad luck than it is poor planning, but really, that’s all the same to Casey. Failure is failure, no matter how it is explained.
And Casey doesn’t fail. Casey doesn’t let himself fail--
Just like that, he pushes past the numbing fear, bending over and tilting Billy’s head back. He doesn’t waste time listening for a breath but instead delivers two short breaths and watches as Billy’s chest rises and falls.
Across from him, Chin has left his post at the helm and he’s bent over Williams, doing the same thing. For a second, their eyes meet, and it’s the same story. They’re doing what has to be done but this time, it’s not about duty.
This time it’s about friendship.
Which is horribly sentimental and Casey shudders at the thought and he’ll have to complain about it in great detail later.
Later, when Billy’s breathing.
With that in mind, Casey refocuses on the task at hand. He detaches himself because that’s how Casey operates. He has to think of this in terms of simple tasks, of plain biological truths. It’s about positioning his hands just right on the chest, finding the breastbone and pushing down. Hard enough to make the chest move, hard enough to make the heart beat within. The beating heart can still stir the blood, still push it throughout the body, create an artificial life until the body takes over again.
This way, the cells don’t die. The organs aren’t damaged. The brain retains its sentience.
This way, Billy can still be Billy.
Logically, Casey knows the odds. He knows that this is an uphill battle. He knows that Billy may have been under too long, that there may be nothing to bring back, that he is essentially attempting the impossible in a wayward effort to circumvent the fates of the universe.
But if Casey believes in fate, he doesn’t care enough to bow to it, especially not for this. The ODS was made to defy the odds, to do the impossible, and that’s a mission Casey won’t fail.
Cannot fail.
He’s giving compressions and Michael’s there, giving breaths. The SEAL is there, too, working on Williams with Kelly. It’s impossible to say how long they’ve been at it but Casey knows they’ll all keep going because the idea of stopping...
Well, that’s not an idea at all. Casey will stop when Billy breathes or when the world caves in, whichever comes first. And really, at this point, Casey’s not picky.
Somewhere in his mind, Casey is aware of the sweat on his brow, the aching of his arms. He feels the tension in Michael’s body, the slackness in Billy’s. They’ve captured Ito, stopped the deal, but the mission - the real mission - hinges on this.
Across from him, there’s a sudden gurgle and McGarrett says, “Danny!” It’s an exclamation of surprise and hope, and it’s followed by a series of hacking coughs as he and Kelly rolls the recumbent detective to his side. Casey sees it, even while he’s pushing down (hard and focused and deliberate, like a beating heart, just like a beating heart) and it’s as much a sign of hope as it is a sign of possible failure.
Because Williams is breathing - Casey can see his back arching slightly, his legs kicking feebly - and that means it’s possible. It’s not too late to come back.
Because Williams is breathing and Billy isn’t, and Casey doesn’t care much for luck, but he knows the odds of someone dying in this mission from hell and Billy’s chances just got that much worse.
“Breathe, Danny,” McGarrett is soothing. “Just breathe.”
It’s good advice. Damn simple advice that’s perfect for the occasion.
Bitterly, Casey looks down at Billy. Michael finishes two breaths and Billy hasn’t moved on his own, even as his body jostles with each compression. “Breathe,” Casey hisses because he’s angry, maybe not at Billy but at everything else. “Damn it, it’s your turn.”
Michael breathes again and Casey pushes. Danny is breathing and McGarrett is rubbing along his shoulders in slow, encouraging movements. Kelly is on the radio and Ito and his gang are watching. Time is suspended, and it feels like it’s gone on forever, but Casey knows it can’t.
One way or another, this can’t last forever.
And then, Billy jerks.
Casey is so intent on his task that he almost doesn’t register the movement. As it is, it takes him a few seconds before he realizes that Billy’s trying to breathe, choking on the water in his lungs instead.
Just that fast, Casey’s entire mindset changes and he pulls away, moving efficiently to roll Billy to his side. Michael is there, supporting the Scotsman’s head even as Casey braces his tall form as he splutters on the water coming out of his mouth.
It takes longer than Casey wants it to, but Billy clears the water, before breathing raggedly. One breath is followed by another, which is followed by another, and Casey is still counting the breaths when Michael claps him on the shoulder.
“We did it,” he says, and his face is tired, but his eyes are smiling anyway. He glances toward Williams and McGarrett then back to Casey before settling on Billy. “We did it.”
And this time, Casey doesn’t let himself believe otherwise, no matter what.
-o-
In retrospect, this was a really bad idea.
Rick’s not entirely sure why he ever thought it would be a good idea. Dismantling and reassembling their surveillance equipment to install remotely on a borrowed police boat was one thing. Chasing down dangerous and unknown sellers on the open water with one local cop was another.
Especially when there had been shots fired, a high speed chase, and Kono’s decision to jump off a moving boat onto another moving boat.
There are crazy ideas and there are crazy ideas, and even if this wasn’t entirely his idea, enough of it was, and it hasn’t occurred to him until now that it really might have been insane.
Of course, it had worked, and Rick’s standing with a gun guarding smugglers on their own boat while Kono is on the radio. Which makes the entire situation as invigorating as it is terrifying.
And yet, even in retrospect, Rick can’t imagine doing it another way.
Standing there, Rick realizes he’s finally thinking like the ODS.
That’s as invigorating as it is terrifying, too.
Of course, Rick hopes his teammates just think so. When he gets to see them--
And Rick would really like to see them soon.
Just then, Kono gets off the radio. Her sigh is audible as she comes back toward him, a gun still in her hand as well. She shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “The Coast Guard is still fifteen minutes out.”
Rick makes a face. “How could they possibly be fifteen minutes out?” he asks. “We’ve kept them informed of the coordinates.”
Kono rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I know, but apparently we’ve gone a little off course,” she says and she glances toward the smugglers. “So we just have to sit tight until they get here.”
This is reasonable, even if Rick doesn’t want it to be. Fifteen minutes really isn’t that long. And since they’re playing this one by the book, leaving their perps unattended is probably bad form. Besides, there’s no reason to doubt his team is anything less than capable of handling the rest of the case without him.
Yet...
Rick’s shoulders slump; he looks at Kono uncertainly. During the chase, she had been completely with it, confident, and frighteningly capable. Now, she looks like she did when they were back in that van. A rookie.
Which is what Rick feels like again, all of a sudden.
He glances at their captives. They’re secure and disarmed. They’re handcuffed to the boat, far away from each other, both hands above their heads. There’s no possibility they’ll escape.
He glances at their boat again. It’s moored nearby, ready and able to go.
Rick chews his lip, the gun heavy in his hands. He feels like a rookie when he’s acting like a rookie. And the rookie is the one who plays backup and follows orders unnecessarily. He knows sometimes it’s important to stay back, to play a lesser part, but not all the time.
Sometimes he gets treated like the rookie because he doesn’t act like a full fledged member of the team. That’s why the chase had worked so well, even despite all odds. Rick had believed he could do it. Kono had, too. Their blind faith in that had changed everything.
And yet, here they are.
Rick looks at the prisoners again. They’re not going anywhere, Rick realizes. They don’t need a babysitter.
He glances back at the boat.
He looks at Kono. “You know,” he starts, as conversationally as he can. “They’re secure.”
Kono frowns, looking over at the prisoners, toting her gun higher.
Rick hedges, inclining his head toward her. “The Coast Guard is on their way.”
“In fifteen minutes,” Kono says with a slow but knowing nod.
“That’s not so long,” Rick says.
Her face shifts, and she nods. “Not long at all.”
“They won’t miss us,” he says.
“And with your CIA status, it’s better if you’re not here,” Kono says readily.
“Good point,” Rick agrees quickly.
“So maybe we should--” she says, jerking her head toward their boat.
Rick shrugs. “I think we should--”
Neither of them finish the sentence.
It’s a matter of minutes before Kono has their boat powered up again and they’re headed back toward the coordinates where they last saw their teammates. Kono is at the wheel, and they’re going so quickly across the water that Rick has to brace himself. Over the roar of the engine and the whooshing of the wind, Rick yells, “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?”
There’s a moment of blank uncertainty on her face before she shakes her head. “No, we get a lot of leeway,” she calls back.
“We were given direct orders,” he reminds her, as much as he reminds himself.
“And we followed them,” she says, nodding readily. Then she shrugs, eyes still on the water in front of them. “Mostly.”
“The spirit of them, anyway,” Rick offers, trying to be helpful.
The doubt is enough, though, that they lapse into uncomfortable silence. Rick is going through his mental list of defenses, including any snippet of blackmail he can conjure up, to dissuade any lectures his team may hope to give.
Those thoughts vanish, though, when Kono points and says, “There, we’re coming up on them.”
Rick strains his eyes but the scene on the horizon is coming up fast. As they approach, Rick realizes that it’s just two boats - where there used to be three.
For a moment, Rick’s not sure what to make of it. His mind stalls while he tries to apply his analytical processes to the situation because while he knows there are ample reasons for one boat to leave while leaving the other two, his instincts are telling him this is wrong. Very, very wrong.
It’s possible that they split up; they took the suspects back in one boat and left the other boat to secure the scene. Maybe there’s more investigative work to be done. Maybe there are jurisdictional concerns that Michael is carefully trying to circumvent.
Maybe.
And maybe not.
The ODS is good. Scary good in a way that makes Rick want to bang his head against a wall and still get back up and take notes. Good, but decidedly not lucky.
So when Rick’s gut tells him that something is wrong, he knows enough to trust it, even when it doesn’t want to.
Kono must have the same fears because her face is tense, and her movements are harsh and abrupt as she brings them in closer. It seems to take hours to get them there, and when Kono pulls the boat hard to port to make a sudden stop near the scene, Rick’s already moving down the deck to get a better view.
But no matter what view he gets, it doesn’t improve the picture that’s starting to be made clear to him.
As Kono inches them alongside the first vessel, Rick realizes that the two boats there are ones he recognizes. Not from his grunt work or the files, but because they match the on he’s in. Standard issue HPD boats, probably taken without paperwork, too. That means that Casey and Michael are still here. That means that the boat that’s missing is Ito’s.
Ito’s boat is the one that shouldn’t be missing. Because either Ito and his crew got away or those charges did more damage than Rick wants to consider.
Because if Ito’s boat is missing then Billy’s missing...
Then Rick sees Ito’s gang, tied up and secured to Casey’s boat. But there’s no one guarding them, and the only person at the helm is Chin, who seems to be barking orders into a radio.
Rick’s hesitating, but Kono’s pressing by him. “Did you get them?”
At first, it’s not clear if she’s asking about Ito and his crew, but somehow Rick knows better. Because there’s only one thing pressing on his mind, one piece missing to this puzzle.
Chin is grim as he pulls away from the radio. “Pulled them out of the boat before it sank,” he says.
Which, Rick can tell is the good news. His stomach flutters as he braces instinctively for the bad.
“Neither was breathing,” Chin continues, and the words sound hard as his jaw works. “We got them breathing, but the Med-Evac chopper is on its way.”
It is the bad news but it’s not the worst news and as Rick stands there blinking, Kono scales the rail, making the small leap toward the other vessel. She lands neatly on the deck, moving forward without looking back.
For a second, Rick just stares after her. For a rookie, Kono Kalakaua has her share of surprises.
As he tries to follow suit, he realizes she’s full of more surprises than he might expect, especially since he almost misses the jump and comes dangerously close to showing himself as the landlocked CIA operative that he normally is.
Still, he hits the deck and even if he’s less graceful than Kono about it, he’s still dry.
Besides, he realizes quickly that no one is watching him except for Ito and his men and while Rick likes to keep up appearances, impressing criminals is low on his priority list. Not at the bottom perhaps, and on a normal day, maybe - but it’s not a normal day. And today, of all days, Rick really has more important things to worry about, like the fact that while the criminals have nothing better to do than to glower at everyone regarding their impending fate, his team is far too preoccupied to even care if he’s there or not.
On his feet, feeling more or less with it, he can see his team clearly now. Michael is on his knees, propping Billy up while Casey has a hand on the Scot’s wrist, presumably counting the beats of his heart. Billy is on his side, his chest visibly heaving as he takes in grating breaths that Rick can hear from where he’s standing.
Even so, Billy is trying to speak. “It’s not so bad,” he says, breaking off with a round of hacking. “A little water--” He coughs again. “--right down the gullet--”
Casey glares at him. “Which is only made worse by your incessant chatter,” he says. “If there’s ever been a time to shut up--”
Billy shakes his head, still gasping. “Never will such a time exist--”
This time when he coughs, he nearly curls in on himself and it’s all Michael can do to keep the Scotsman’s head from hitting the deck hard. This time, Billy doesn’t quite recover and Casey leans closer, trying to get Billy to look at him with minimal success.
It’s an unsettling scene, but it’s repeated nearly exactly with Detective Williams, who seems to be taking his situation with a little less grace than Billy. Whereas Billy is trying to make light, Danny is leaning toward melodramatics.
Although, Rick has to wonder, maybe the melodrama is warranted, all things considered.
Regardless, the smaller man’s ranting is something to behold: “No, I don’t think I’m overreacting--” He, too, breaks off with a round of coughing that has McGarrett wincing. “--I drowned, you idiot! And I don’t even like the water!”
McGarrett is trying to say something comforting and Kono is there now, too, leaning over and trying to offer support. Danny tries to eschew them, but he doesn’t have the strength, and before he can protest further, he deteriorates into coughing.
Rick moves forward, not sure what to do but still feeling like he needs to do something. He hovers over his teammates, swallowing back his fear. “How is he?”
Michael looks up, somewhat grave.
Casey gives him a plaintive stare. “How do you think it is?” he asks shortly. “Billy decided to see if he was a fish.”
“He wasn’t,” Michael added somewhat unnecessarily.
Billy looks up, still gasping. “But I gave it a valiant effort,” he says. “I--”
He coughs again, even harder this time, and when it doesn’t stop, his face starts to turn red with the obvious effort.
“That’s because people aren’t suppose to spend so much time in the water!” Williams exclaims next to him. He sucks in hard, wincing and choking slightly.
“And they’re also not supposed to talk themselves into unconsciousness,” McGarrett chides, and there’s both affection and concern in his voice.
Uncurling slightly, Billy looks ready to comment but he can’t catch his breath. Rick feels a little helpless in this but there’s nothing he can do. Nothing that will help, not even as Billy continues to gulp before his face drains of color and his eyelids flutter closed and his body drops back limply even as he continues to labor for air.
Casey hisses a curse and Michael looks up, the anxiety in his posture barely hidden.
It’s getting worse, Rick realizes. Things with the ODS are rarely straightforward; it’s often a game of one step forward and two steps back and this seems to be no different. But with this kind of brush with death, Rick doesn’t want to know what the steps back could be.
Somewhere in the distance, Rick hears the beat of helicopter rotors and as he looks over his shoulders, he sees the speck on the horizon.
“Danny?” McGarrett asks. “Danny!”
Rick turns back around, and Danny’s back is ramrod straight, his entire body trembling while McGarrett and Kono look on helplessly. Chin is on the radio still, voice pitching with demand.
It’s getting worse.
This is what Rick expected but it’s also what he feared and for everything he’s done today, he feels impotent now.
“Martinez!” Michael barks.
Rick startles. Michael is look up at him, and if his face looks tense, Rick at least knows it’s not really directed at him.
“I need you to come here,” Michael orders.
Instinctively, Rick obeys, and he goes closer. When Michael nods downward, Rick goes to his knees and he’s about to ask what Michael needs when Billy is being transferred into his hands. Before Rick can protest, the Scot’s weight is shifted and it’s all Rick can do to support him before his head falls to the wood planks below them.
“Keep him on his side and keep his head as even as possible,” Michael orders.
“And don’t drop him,” Casey tells him, still manning his position next to Billy.
Rick blinks, too surprised to manage much else, and Michael gets to his feet. He’s about to ask a question - any question, really, Rick just feels like he needs to say something at this point - but Billy’s breaths are railing and the sound of the chopper is closer now and Rick thinks how if he’d followed orders, he’d still be in the van on dry land.
Safer, less stressful. But this is where Rick needs to be. Where he’s supposed to be. If Michael or McGarrett is surprised to see them, there’s really too much else going on to get into it. Rick suspects he might get a reprimand later, but only after Billy and Williams are okay.
They will be okay, Rick decides.
He looks down at Billy, sees the small tremor in his body now, the faint hint of blue still on his eyelids as he breathes opened mouth and eyes closed.
Where he belongs.
Michael is back now, but he’s not alone. He’s relaying information, running down the injuries and Rick watches as Casey is pulled away but is still somehow caught off guard when the same thing happens to him. There are things happening now, things being said, and Rick doesn’t quite hear it all but he still understands.
Understands as the medic assesses Billy and Detective Williams. Understands as IVs are started, as oxygen masks is placed over their faces. Understands when the stretchers are lowered and both are secured. Understands the small squeeze of the hand that McGarrett offers Williams before he’s lifted off the boat and into the waiting chopper.
Understands as Billy waits his turn, eyelids half open again and still looking for his team. And they’re all there. Without fail.
Understands Billy’s smile, even as he labors. Understands that it’s not okay yet, Billy’s still going to need a hospital and there’s more mess to unfurl before this is over. Billy looks awful, the 5-0 team looks bedraggled, and it’s not okay yet.
But it will be.
They all watch as Danny is secured in the chopper. They hold Billy’s gaze for one last moment before he, too, is lifted, stretcher swaying slightly in the wind before he’s secured on the other side of the chopper. When the medic loads back up, the chopper is gone, leaving 5-0, the ODS, and Ito’s gang alone on the open waters.
In all, it feels a bit anticlimactic.
It also feels a little like relief.
They are silent as the chopper disappears and then Michael turns his gaze to Rick inquisitively. “I thought I told you to stay in the van,” he says.
It’s true, and no matter what Rick’s convictions may be, Michael has the ability to make Rick feel sheepish. “Well,” he says, shrugging a little. “You technically have no jurisdiction here.”
Behind them, Casey smirks. Michael’s eyes narrow.
Nearby, McGarrett pins Kono with an equally curious look. “And I thought I told you we needed you as backup.”
“And I was,” Kono says earnestly.
“I told you to stay in the van,” McGarrett amends.
Kono blinks innocently. “I know your kind of backup, boss,” she says. “Besides, I figured it was up to me to show our new CIA friends how we do things in Hawaii.”
There’s a generalized scoff at that, and it’s hard to tell who finds that more audacious - Michael or Steve.
Ultimately, Rick figures it probably doesn’t matter. He grins, clapping Kono on the shoulder. “I think you’d be surprised to find that things in Hawaii aren’t so different from things in the CIA.”
At that, Michael laughs.
Even Steve’s face breaks after a moment into a tired smile. “Well,” he says, head bowed in acceptance before he looks back up at them all again. “I suppose that much is true by now.”
And no one has it in them to disagree.
-o-
The end of the mission is always like taking a breath of fresh air.
Except, of course, when breathing feels like a slow and effortful torture, where each breath is forced through his lungs with a spike of pain that threatens to close this throat entirely.
And really, although the oxygen mask is delivering pure oxygen, it feels too circulated somehow and Billy knows the difference.
But still, the idea of the thing is still valid.
The mission is over and that feels damn good, metaphorically speaking.
And really, Billy will take metaphorically since it’s about the only part of him that feels good.
The first few hours had been a blur of lights and noise and he’d been carted to and fro, poked and prodded and ultimately sedated and put in a room for observational purposes. Now that he’s awake, Billy is far more aware of exactly what happened to him.
The stiffness in his face is from the beating, no doubt, which he still remembers with some clarity. It blurs somewhat only because Billy’s endured his share of fights and one is the same as the rest, although getting bashed around at sea is somewhat distinctive, all things considered.
The chafing on his wrists is a more poignant sort of pain, and even though they’ve been bandaged, Billy imagines it’ll be quite some time before he can walk around in short sleeves again. Handcuffs will do that to person, and it’s a pity that Ito’s men are so old school because Billy knows that zip ties generally do not cause quite so much damage.
The wheeze in his lungs is most certainly the whole drowning issue, which is probably Billy’s least favorite memory of the mission. If certain things are blurry, the sensation of needing air is ever present in Billy’s mind and sometimes when he’s drifted off, he still comes to with a terrified gasp, looking for air that he’s readily relieved to find in ample supply.
He somewhat wonders if the dull but persistent headache has something to do with how long he was under, though the doctors will not specify and his team has been rather tongue in cheek about the entire ordeal.
That just leaves the ache in his chest, which indicates bruised ribs, and Billy somewhat prefers not to consider the full implications of that, but he figures that his team’s reticence in the aftermath is inexorably related.
There’s also a throbbing pain in his left pinky toe that he can’t quite pinpoint, which makes it almost more disconcerting than the rest.
With all of this on his mind, and with his team’s need to tie up the loose ends with 5-0, Billy’s rather glad that he has a roommate for this hospital stay.
“I don’t see the point in all these wires,” Danny gripes from the next bed. He’s holding his hand out, letting the IVs flap in the air. “I’m like some kind of damn puppet. And how do they expect me to pee with all this stuff?”
“Well, I imagine that’s what the metal pan next to your bed is for,” Billy returns as seriously as he can.
“I’m not going to pee in a pan,” Danny shoots back. Even though he’s still breathing through an oxygen mask at intermittent intervals, the detective somehow manages to make his words carry their typical bite, which is no small feat as far as Billy is concerned.
“Well, then, I’m sure I can page our lovely call nurse,” Billy suggests.
Danny snorts. “You mean the torturer?” he asks. “I swear, that woman is certifiably insane. And worse, she has the bedside manner of a grumpy hippopotamus.”
“Well, I suppose that’s better than a water buffalo,” Billy says.
Danny stops his ranting to look at Billy. “What?”
Billy shrugs innocently. “Rabid creatures, water buffalo,” he says with a knowing nod. “Quite unpleasant.”
At that, Danny stares at him. Hard. Perplexed. “You have issues, you know that?”
“Aye,” Billy agrees in total good nature. “One doesn’t usually become a spy because they are completely well adjusted to life in the normal world.”
Danny looks ready to argue that point before he realizes that there’s no point to argue. “Did you just agree with me?” he asks instead, almost incredulous.
Billy can’t help it if he grins. “I often find that the way to infuriate a willing opponent is through agreement, not denial.”
“So you’re trying to drive me crazy,” Danny concludes.
“Come now,” Billy cajoles, wincing slightly at the pull in his chest from so much talking. He’s not about to let it deter him, but it is a pressing reminder of what he’s just endured. “Surely we have gotten past that point with all we’ve been through.”
“You mean the part where we got abducted by gang members, beaten and drowned?” Danny asks sarcastically.
Billy takes a deep breath from the oxygen before nodding. “Those are the things that join men’s souls.”
Danny shakes his head. “No, those are the things that kill men’s souls,” he retorts. “And I hold you responsible.”
Billy frowns. “I take that accusation quite personally.”
“Good,” Danny returns, hand still swinging through the air. “Because I meant it quite personally.”
Collecting a breath, Billy shakes his head. “You know, for someone who just came back from the brink of death, you still harbor a great many resentments,” he says. “Most people would see such an incidence as an opportunity, grasp a new lease on life.”
“I liked my old lease, thank you very much,” Danny says primly, shifting in his hospital bed and crossing his arms obstinately over his chest. “Which is why I very much resent the fact that you and your little intrepid band of CIA agents almost got me killed.”
It’s all Billy can do to not roll his eyes. The first few times this accusation came up, Billy had taken it seriously.
The subsequent five times, it had lost its emotional punch, no matter how sincere the detective sounded. It’s clear to Billy that Detective Danny Williams has to talk his way through problems, which is a trait Billy can readily understand. Even if he himself prefers to do so in a more friendly manner, Billy knows the comfort of words and does not begrudge such things to any other living soul.
Accordingly, Billy smiles. “Such are the risks and perils of our noble line of work,” he says. Then he pins Danny with a look. “Surely, a man such as yourself would not feel satisfied with letting a criminal of Ito’s depth just get away? Even if it does involve some pain.”
Danny’s eyebrows go up. “Some pain?” he asks. He motions to himself. “My chest feels like I got sat on by an elephant and I have to deal with the lingering reality that I received CPR. That’s not some pain. That’s a lot of pain. That’s dying pain.”
“But all in the name of the greater good,” Billy continues.
Danny snorts again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“You can try to deny it, but I believe I know better,” Billy continues, not letting the detective out of his knowing look. “I told you before, you and I, we’re really not so different.”
Danny eyes him with something similar to disdain. “You’re perpetually happy and annoying,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand. “Me, I’m sane.”
Billy waves a hand of his own, again ignoring the persistent pull in his chest. “Yes, yes, but we’re after the same things.”
“The only things you seem to be after are destruction and chaos,” Danny accuses.
Billy ignores him. “Truth and justice,” he counters instead.
“Oh,” Danny says mockingly. “That’s what you call it.”
“It does come in many forms,” Billy offers.
“And it puts you in the hospital?” Danny asks sarcastically.
Billy shrugs his shoulders, hedging. “It is an unfortunate side effect from time to time,” he relents. But then he nods at the other man, as earnest as possible. “But it’s worth it. What we accomplished today, despite what we almost lost, it’s worth it.”
For a long moment, Danny looks ready to argue. It seems to be his default, and it’s only with actual thought that the detective seems to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. Finally, he sighs, the fight going out of his body and the weariness more visible than before. His face is still pale, the stubble pronounced as he takes slightly wheezing breaths.
Then Danny looks at him, suddenly still. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I suppose it is.”
In this, there is sudden solidarity. It’s been there all along, Billy knows, even if men such as themselves rarely give voice to such things. But Billy knows that the heart of a hero beats in many a man, not just spies, and he’s never seen one quite as jaded and still as genuine as Detective Danny Williams.
Billy respects that; in some ways, he rather likes it. And in that moment, he sees that Danny feels the same.
Then Danny takes a breath from the oxygen mask before shifting and straightening again. “At least, death by Japanese gangster might be worth it,” Danny says. “But death by bladder infection doesn’t seem fair. Because, really, they expect me to pee in that pan?”
Billy has to laugh, shaking his head and settling back contentedly.
Danny’s arms start up again, his tone almost apoplectic as he continues. “I drowned, which doesn’t remove the use of my legs,” he continues with agitation. “So I’m not sure how that precludes me from using the bathroom like a normal person!”
And Billy just smiles as the rant picks up speed. He trusts this is how their teams will find them when they come back and they all leave this place together. Because despite all their differences, there’s really more the same, and Billy finds more than a little comfort in that.
-o-
As a spy, Michael spends countless hours prepping for a mission. Intel can take years to obtain and confirm and the execution of a mission in the field can be a complicated and drawn out procedure. With all that goes into it, Michael figures that they’re entitled to as little aftermath as they can get away with most of the time.
After all, in the field, the job is to go in and get out and leave as few loose ends as possible. There are some reports to fill out and some debriefings to attend, and then it’s back to the intel, safe and quiet in the confines of their generic office back at Langley.
Michael likes this part of the job. He doesn’t have to say goodbye to anyone because no one in the field knows who he really is. He doesn’t have to linger for closure because the entire point is not to make a lasting impression.
That’s what he’d really like to do now, if he’s honest. This mission has been more than somewhat difficult and he’s feeling restless for the familiarity of the stark CIA hallways. Ito has been turned over to the proper authorities and the dominoes are already falling from the sudden dissolution of his empire, and that’s what Michael came here for.
But with Billy in the hospital, lingering is all Michael can do.
The hard parts are all taken care of. Since they helped on this mission off the record, there’s nothing they have to add to the final record anyway. The 5-0 team has lived up to their part of the agreement, and no one has looked twice at Michael or his team in connection with anything regarding the bust.
This has given them time to deal with Billy, which on many levels, Michael is grateful for. It’s never easy to see one of his own taken down, and his memories of breathing for Billy are still pretty vivid. No matter how optimistic the doctors are about Billy’s prognosis, Michael prefers to keep his own vigil.
Still, it all makes for a long night, and dealing with Billy semi-conscious and drugged is almost more work than anything else. But he’s awake and coherent now and the doctors feel good about his breathing and there’s already talk of sending him home.
Which means Michael may finally get to move on, just like he wants to.
In preparation, he’s sent Casey and Rick back to the hotel to close up. Even with their covers, Michael doesn’t like to leave a trail, and he trusts Casey and Rick to ensure that there’s nothing of their presence left behind, even by coincidence. He’s been evicted from Billy’s room at Detective Williams’ insistence: apparently the shorter man doesn’t think that physical exams should be public viewing.
Billy had rolled his eyes, but Michael had acquiesced. After getting a cup of coffee, he’d settled in the waiting room - well, waiting.
He’s so intent on his waiting that he almost doesn’t see Steve McGarrett walk in.
He still does, though, because Michael’s a spy. He doesn’t know how to turn that off, even if he did want to.
As it is, he still feigns something of surprise when Steve walks up to him. “They okay?” the SEAL asks, nodding absently in the direction of Danny and Billy’s room.
It’s an answer that McGarrett clearly knows the answer to because he’s been there almost as much as Michael has. He left for a few hours in the morning at the governor’s behest, but he’s talked to the doctors and knows the details of their prognoses.
And yet, it’s still a question Michael understands. He smiles. “Just getting another check over before the doctor considers clearing them for discharge,” he says.
Steve’s eyebrows go up. “Already?”
Michael shrugs halfway. “Not quite yet, but we’re not exactly the types to stick around,” he explains.
Understanding dawns on Steve’s features. “So you’re looking to head out soon?”
“Since technically we’re here on vacation,” Michael says with a nod.
Steve offers a half smile before sighing and settling in the chair next to Michael. For a moment, they sit in silence, watching the bustle of the hospital.
Finally, Michael says, “You know, you didn’t stick to the plan.”
Steve frowns, glancing toward him.
“When you approached Ito’s boat,” Michael clarifies. “We were supposed to wait until after the charges had disabled the boat before going in. Going in early tipped them off; we’re lucky they weren’t able to mobilize some kind of response.”
It’s a point that he’s gone over in his head. Michael isn’t one to second guess things - as far as he’s concerned, what’s done is done and all is well that end’s well - but this has left him curious. Not regarding the plan but McGarrett’s implementation of it.
Steve shifts in his seat, brow furrowed. “So?”
“So, for someone who talked so much about the plan,” Michael says, letting the words linger.
This time, Steve’s frown is tinged with annoyance. “The plan was falling apart.”
“We still had a job to do,” Michael countered.
“Yeah, bringing our people home,” Steve interjects roughly. “Alive. Or is that too hard for your rogue CIA brain to figure out?”
That is the bottom line of all this and has been since the beginning. It’s why Michael had known from the start this makeshift alliance could work, despite all odds. Because Steve McGarrett is not so unlike him, and where they are different, it’s still for the same reasons. It’s not just about the mission - though, it’s clear to Michael they both hold it in high esteem - it’s about the people doing the mission.
It’s that confidence in his teammates that made Steve McGarrett take on armed gang members in a lonely alley. It’s that confidence that made him distrust Michael from the outset. And Michael respected that if only because he felt the same.
It’s also where they can find common ground when all is said and done.
Sitting back, Michael tilts his head. “No,” he says after the question has lingered. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”
The answer is not the one Steve’s expecting. His stare turns incredulous.
“I deviated from mission protocol and tracked Ito to Hawaii because it was the right thing to do,” Michael explains. “It was a risk - and a big one at that - but I had to do it. I even had to put my team’s fate in your hands. Telling you we were CIA went against every instinct I had. But it was the right thing for the mission and the right thing for my men.”
Steve holds his gaze, face still set dubiously.
“Because my best bet of getting my men out of this mission in one piece was to trust you,” he continues. “Doing it alone made us vulnerable. Trusting you, by contrast, was the lesser of two evils. Now I can see that it was the right choice to make.”
“You used us,” Steve says with a hint of accusation.
“Just like you used us,” Michael returns. “Tell me, how happy was the governor to have Ito in custody under her supervision?”
Steve can’t quite hide the telltale trace of blush on his cheeks.
“So, yeah, I get it,” Michael says. “I’ve been a leader of this team for six years. I have to decide what corners to cut and what risks to take. I don’t always like it, and I don’t always make the right choice, but I do what needs to be done.”
It’s as much as Michael knows how to say, as much as he’s ever told anyone outside the CIA. It’s probably too much, probably compromising more than he should, but if he’s breaking all his own rules, somehow he trusts it’s for the right reasons all over again.
Steve is silent for a long moment, still watching Michael intently. Were he not trained as a spy with countless years of experience in the field, this might have bothered Michael. As it is, he holds himself still, head high, and trusts that the SEAL will see what he needs to see.
Finally, Steve draws a breath, he nods slightly and there’s understanding in his eyes. Maybe not quite friendship but, maybe he can admit it now, respect.
Steve sits back and his jaw works. “Does it get easier?” he asks.
And that’s a good question. The question Michael’s been asking himself since he took this job in the first place. If somehow it gets easier to make the tough calls, if it gets easier to put the lives of people he cares about on the line and hope that he’s doing the right thing for the right reasons.
In all these years, Michael still has the same answer.
Smiling wryly, he shakes his head. “No,” he says, and if he’s told McGarrett any lies, this is the truth that rectifies everything. “But it’s always worth trying.”
-o-
The airport is busy.
Rick figures this is probably a perpetual problem in a place like Hawaii. With so much to offer in such a small total area, airports are in high demand. Still, it’s something to watch all the people coming and going, the vast array of khaki shorts and brightly colored shirts to make the entire scene complete.
It’s something to consider, Rick thinks - how normal people live. He remembers sitting on the beach when this mission started, too concerned about the mission to pay much attention to everything else.
He wonders what it’s like for the rest of the world. These people are coming and going, taking a vacation or returning home. Simple pleasure in a simply beautiful place.
With all the hunting gangsters and saving his teammates, that little detail escaped Rick, but it’s hard to miss it now that they’re finally leaving it behind.
In the terminal, they sit loosely together. Casey snags himself a cup of coffee while Michael breaks open a new book he bought at the airport bookstore. Billy’s lounging with his sunglasses on, looking relaxed but Rick knows he’s really watching the crowds out of habit.
For his part, Rick is watching his team. They never seem to miss anything, from the moves of a gangster to the beauty of a beach. Rick’s not sure how they do that, how they can multitask so effortlessly, how spy work is nothing more than reflex, but it’s still damn impressive.
Everything about them is damn impressive. From what they do in the field to how they are afterward.
Because this mission has been less than perfect. Michael’s plan almost failed and Casey’s charges almost blew the entire thing to hell. Billy almost died and yet, here they are. As laid back as the rest of the people, as though they’d done nothing but lounge at the beach.
“You’re worrying far too much,” Billy says suddenly.
Rick startles, glancing toward the Scotsman.
Billy hasn’t moved; his posture is relaxed, sunglasses still in place. There’s still a slight rasp in his breathing but he hides it well and he moves with a hint of tenderness, but that’s the only lingering trace of the injuries he sustained.
Billy turns his head slightly to look at Rick. “The mission is over, lad,” he says. “That’s the time to turn your brain off and you’ve still got yours in overdrive.”
It’s really not a surprise that Billy can sense this. It’s still kind of annoying, though.
Casey takes a sip of his coffee and cast a palliative look toward Rick. “You create extra stress for yourself,” he says. “It’ll cause you undue emotional distress. Not to mention it’ll age you ten years.”
Rick frowns at him.
“Seriously,” Billy continues before Rick can mount any kind of defense. “What could possibly be bothering you at this juncture?”
There are a lot of answers to that question. He laughs. “It was a close mission,” he says as honestly as he can. His teammates are skilled at lying to him, but it’s a talent Rick hasn’t quite perfected, not around people he has to think of as friends. “For a while...”
Casey rolls his eyes and Billy shifts slightly.
Michael shakes his head. “You’re focusing on the wrong things,” he says.
Rick remembers being in the van, remembers hearing that Billy was taken. He remembers the boat and Kono and coming back in time to see Billy lifted onto the helicopter.
“For a while, I wanted to throw my 5-0 counterpart into the water for being such a stubborn and prideful bastard,” Michael continues. “But it’s not the small moments that matter; those are things that don’t make it into reports. It’s the big picture.”
“The details will always get cumbersome in the aftermath,” Casey adds. “Holistic analysis is necessary.”
“And besides,” Billy says, a small twinkle in his eyes. “This is Hawaii. We’re on vacation. It’s an awfully nice big picture, wouldn’t you say?”
It seems too simple. It always seems too simple. How his team manages to make the most complicated and convoluted things seem natural is beyond him, how they are able to know all the details and still gloss them over is almost infuriating.
But then again, maybe it is that simple. Maybe it’s not just the sun and the sand, but his team and the mission they’re on together.
Finally, Rick sighs. “Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I guess it’s really not so bad.”
-o-
All things considered, this is a case Steve is happy to put behind him.
It turned out well, that much is true. They apprehended Ito and a large portion of his inner circle. They also picked up the smugglers out of Canada, which was an added coup, especially since some digging by Kono put them in connection with a wide range of illegal activity along the American pacific coastline. The governor is thrilled; the news outlets are lauded the bust as nothing short of heroic. It’s damn good press and Steve knows he’s building up the credibility of his team and storing more than a few favors with this one.
And yet, with the paperwork filed and the statements issued to the press, there’s nothing Steve wants more than to go home, crack open a beer, and rest.
But he has one thing he has to do first.
Pulling into the parking lot, Steve gets out of his truck, squinting up. The hospital is never his favorite place to go, and knowing one of his team is on the inside makes it even less appealing. But today, it’s okay.
Today, Danny’s going home.
It’s only been a few days, but Steve knows the way to Danny’s room by heart. When he gets there, he finds Danny up and dressed, milling about as he tries to get his things together. He also discovers that he’s not the only one there to see Danny out. Chin and Kono are in the two empty seats, watching in bemusement as Danny presumably gathers his things.
“Oh, so you too?” Danny asks, giving Steve a cursory glance.
Steve lifts his eyebrows. “Me too?”
“You also seem to think I need a chaperone,” he mutters, gesturing toward Chin and Kono, who just grin at the insinuation.
Steve relaxes, shrugging a little. “Last time I left you by yourself you got yourself kidnapped and drowned,” he reminds Danny. “I’d rather be safe than sorry this time.”
“Ha, ha,” Danny says sarcastically. “I’m sorry my peril was such an unending burden for you.”
“I’m just saying,” Steve says.
Danny rolls his eyes. “Do I need to remind you that none of this was my idea?” he asks. “This was our spy friends’ faults; we were just along for the ride.”
“They did have a knack for finding trouble,” Chin says. “No way in a million years on any other case would those charges set off like that.”
“And they were pretty persistent,” Kono adds.
There’s truth to all this, and Steve lifts one shoulder in tacit acquiescence. “I’m still kind of glad the CIA was in on this one,” he admits.
Chin and Kono look somewhat surprised, but Danny’s expression is nothing short of sheer incredulity. “You’re kind of glad?” he repeats. “You were the one who wanted to arrest them and bring them up on made up charges just for the hell of it.”
There is also quite a bit of truth to that, and Steve knows better than to deny it. “Yeah, well,” Steve says, almost sheepish. “Maybe I was being hasty.”
Danny stares. “Hasty?” he asks. “Did you actually just admit to being hasty?”
Steve rolls his eyes.
“No, no, really,” Danny says, hands moving now as he steps closer to Steve. “You, Steve McGarrett, are admitting to possibly acting without thinking? To making decisions without giving them proper care? To being unduly reckless in the face of potential danger and legal consequences?”
Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not that bad,” he protests.
Danny throws his arms up.
Chin eyes him, somewhat apologetic. “You are kind of stubborn about things.”
Steve snorts, eyes going to Kono.
She nods. “Sorry, boss,” she says.
Frowning, Steve glares at all of them. It feels a little petulant, but he knows it. More than that, he knows that it feels familiar; right. “Well,” he says, jutting his chin just slightly. “I’m sorry you all feel that way.”
Danny puts his hands out, almost in invitation. “We do feel that way,” he says. “But the fact that you’re missing is that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”
He says it casually, in the same tone as everything else, but Steve doesn’t miss the subtle shift. “You’re actually admitting that it’s not a bad thing?” he asks, brow wrinkled in total curiosity.
Danny sighs in melodramatic exasperation. “I mean maybe - just maybe,” he begins, holding up one finger in warning, “there’s a time and place for such ridiculous heroics and bending the rules.”
This is something Danny has believed since the beginning, although he’s never come out and said it. At least not to Steve. So the admission is telling. More than that, it’s surprising. Rocking back on his heels, Steve eyes Danny, a little smug. “Oh yeah?”
Danny glowers slightly. “I said maybe.”
“Maybe,” Steve repeats, nodding in encouragement. In the background, Chin is shaking his head and Kono’s smile is growing wider.
“I’m just saying, it seemed to work for the CIA and we got the bad guy and we’re all still alive,” Danny says, rambling disarmingly. “I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it had its merits.”
Steve won’t be so easily distracted from the main point. “So you’re saying my tactics work?” he asks.
Danny sighs again, hands flailing. “I’m saying time and place, Steven, time and place,” he says, using his fingers to punctuate the words. “Like when gangster are getting away or teammates are drowning - that sort of thing.”
Steve nods. “So I’m right,” he concludes.
Danny’s brow scrunches in infuriation. “Is that what I said?” he asks. Steve looks innocent and Danny turns in desperation to Chin and Kono. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
At that, Chin and Kono both roll their eyes. Chin pushes to his feet, patting Danny on the shoulder. “I’ll go pull the car up,” he says.
Kono is right behind him. Her hand trails on Danny’s arm. “If you’re ready to go home, anyway,” she says.
“Oh, I’m ready,” Danny says after her. “I’m more than ready.”
When Chin and Kono are gone, Steve is still smiling. It’s a little smug and it’s a little relieved and it’s mostly just that sense that everything is how it should be.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring at Danny until Danny stares back. “Something wrong?” Danny asks pointedly. He sounds annoyed, but Steve knows better.
Steve can’t help himself: he grins. “No,” he says, shaking his head.
“Oh, so the fact that I nearly died--”
“But you didn’t--”
“No thanks to you--”
“It wasn’t my case--”
“Oh, so now it wasn’t your case,” Danny says, his hands going out in exaggeration.
Steve has to laugh, chewing his bottom lip. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Maybe it was kind of my case.”
Danny gives him a look. “You know, if you had just admitted that in the beginning...”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I don’t have control issues.”
Danny snorts. “Yeah, and I don’t like to complain.”
Steve is about to respond but then he hears what Danny says.
Danny shrugs, smiling.
At that, Steve laughs, nodding his head. “I’m glad you’re okay, Danno.”
“Me, too,” Danny says, gathering his bag. “And I’m glad you went against protocol on this one. You know. To save my life.”
Steve’s grin widens and he claps Danny on the arm. “Any time.”
Danny nods good naturedly as he makes his way to the door. “Let’s not make a habit of it, though, okay?”
Steve frowns. “You don’t want me to save your life?”
“No,” Danny counters. “I’d rather not get involved with a CIA mission and end up drowning on a regular basis. Is that so much to ask?”
As they walk out into the hall and back to life and work, Steve has to smile one more time. “No,” he says. “I guess not.”
END
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART SEVEN
It’s going badly.
This, truthfully, is putting it mildly. The entire mission has been on a crash course with disaster ever since it started so well. Casey likes to be right most of the time, but it’s an honor he’d rather forego at this point.
That’s not, however, an option at this point
Nothing is an option at this point except doing the job and getting it done.
Which means pulling the bad guys out of the water, one by one, and securing them to the deck.
Which means watching as the boat he set charges for go down.
Which means watching as half of his team faces probable imminent peril.
Which means pulling Billy’s lifeless body out of the water with the same dutiful impassivity as the rest.
It’s a cold act, and Casey forces himself to be clinical about it. After all, Billy’s not the only victim and even if he’s the only one who matters to Casey, he’s not the only one who matters.
Yet, as Casey turns his attention to the two men in front of him, it’s a hard act to keep up. Casey has trained for years, forced his body and mind and soul into a strict compliance, and he’s flawless. He’s impeccable. There’s no challenge he can’t conquer. He’s made sure of that.
But he doesn’t feel flawless now. On his knees, staring down at Billy, he feels anything but.
The Scot is dripping wet, his spiky tufts of hair matted to his head. His face, which is usually so exuberant and telling, is simply blank. He’s colorless for the most part, but his lips and eyelids are tainted blue, the telltale sign of death.
Because Billy is dead. Just as readily as Detective Williams next to him. They drowned on that boat - the boat that Casey helped sink. He didn’t mean for that, of course. He meant to disable it, knock its engines out. He can’t say for sure what went wrong, but he has a feeling they neglected to consider any possible firearms in the cargo area.
It’s more bad luck than it is poor planning, but really, that’s all the same to Casey. Failure is failure, no matter how it is explained.
And Casey doesn’t fail. Casey doesn’t let himself fail--
Just like that, he pushes past the numbing fear, bending over and tilting Billy’s head back. He doesn’t waste time listening for a breath but instead delivers two short breaths and watches as Billy’s chest rises and falls.
Across from him, Chin has left his post at the helm and he’s bent over Williams, doing the same thing. For a second, their eyes meet, and it’s the same story. They’re doing what has to be done but this time, it’s not about duty.
This time it’s about friendship.
Which is horribly sentimental and Casey shudders at the thought and he’ll have to complain about it in great detail later.
Later, when Billy’s breathing.
With that in mind, Casey refocuses on the task at hand. He detaches himself because that’s how Casey operates. He has to think of this in terms of simple tasks, of plain biological truths. It’s about positioning his hands just right on the chest, finding the breastbone and pushing down. Hard enough to make the chest move, hard enough to make the heart beat within. The beating heart can still stir the blood, still push it throughout the body, create an artificial life until the body takes over again.
This way, the cells don’t die. The organs aren’t damaged. The brain retains its sentience.
This way, Billy can still be Billy.
Logically, Casey knows the odds. He knows that this is an uphill battle. He knows that Billy may have been under too long, that there may be nothing to bring back, that he is essentially attempting the impossible in a wayward effort to circumvent the fates of the universe.
But if Casey believes in fate, he doesn’t care enough to bow to it, especially not for this. The ODS was made to defy the odds, to do the impossible, and that’s a mission Casey won’t fail.
Cannot fail.
He’s giving compressions and Michael’s there, giving breaths. The SEAL is there, too, working on Williams with Kelly. It’s impossible to say how long they’ve been at it but Casey knows they’ll all keep going because the idea of stopping...
Well, that’s not an idea at all. Casey will stop when Billy breathes or when the world caves in, whichever comes first. And really, at this point, Casey’s not picky.
Somewhere in his mind, Casey is aware of the sweat on his brow, the aching of his arms. He feels the tension in Michael’s body, the slackness in Billy’s. They’ve captured Ito, stopped the deal, but the mission - the real mission - hinges on this.
Across from him, there’s a sudden gurgle and McGarrett says, “Danny!” It’s an exclamation of surprise and hope, and it’s followed by a series of hacking coughs as he and Kelly rolls the recumbent detective to his side. Casey sees it, even while he’s pushing down (hard and focused and deliberate, like a beating heart, just like a beating heart) and it’s as much a sign of hope as it is a sign of possible failure.
Because Williams is breathing - Casey can see his back arching slightly, his legs kicking feebly - and that means it’s possible. It’s not too late to come back.
Because Williams is breathing and Billy isn’t, and Casey doesn’t care much for luck, but he knows the odds of someone dying in this mission from hell and Billy’s chances just got that much worse.
“Breathe, Danny,” McGarrett is soothing. “Just breathe.”
It’s good advice. Damn simple advice that’s perfect for the occasion.
Bitterly, Casey looks down at Billy. Michael finishes two breaths and Billy hasn’t moved on his own, even as his body jostles with each compression. “Breathe,” Casey hisses because he’s angry, maybe not at Billy but at everything else. “Damn it, it’s your turn.”
Michael breathes again and Casey pushes. Danny is breathing and McGarrett is rubbing along his shoulders in slow, encouraging movements. Kelly is on the radio and Ito and his gang are watching. Time is suspended, and it feels like it’s gone on forever, but Casey knows it can’t.
One way or another, this can’t last forever.
And then, Billy jerks.
Casey is so intent on his task that he almost doesn’t register the movement. As it is, it takes him a few seconds before he realizes that Billy’s trying to breathe, choking on the water in his lungs instead.
Just that fast, Casey’s entire mindset changes and he pulls away, moving efficiently to roll Billy to his side. Michael is there, supporting the Scotsman’s head even as Casey braces his tall form as he splutters on the water coming out of his mouth.
It takes longer than Casey wants it to, but Billy clears the water, before breathing raggedly. One breath is followed by another, which is followed by another, and Casey is still counting the breaths when Michael claps him on the shoulder.
“We did it,” he says, and his face is tired, but his eyes are smiling anyway. He glances toward Williams and McGarrett then back to Casey before settling on Billy. “We did it.”
And this time, Casey doesn’t let himself believe otherwise, no matter what.
-o-
In retrospect, this was a really bad idea.
Rick’s not entirely sure why he ever thought it would be a good idea. Dismantling and reassembling their surveillance equipment to install remotely on a borrowed police boat was one thing. Chasing down dangerous and unknown sellers on the open water with one local cop was another.
Especially when there had been shots fired, a high speed chase, and Kono’s decision to jump off a moving boat onto another moving boat.
There are crazy ideas and there are crazy ideas, and even if this wasn’t entirely his idea, enough of it was, and it hasn’t occurred to him until now that it really might have been insane.
Of course, it had worked, and Rick’s standing with a gun guarding smugglers on their own boat while Kono is on the radio. Which makes the entire situation as invigorating as it is terrifying.
And yet, even in retrospect, Rick can’t imagine doing it another way.
Standing there, Rick realizes he’s finally thinking like the ODS.
That’s as invigorating as it is terrifying, too.
Of course, Rick hopes his teammates just think so. When he gets to see them--
And Rick would really like to see them soon.
Just then, Kono gets off the radio. Her sigh is audible as she comes back toward him, a gun still in her hand as well. She shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “The Coast Guard is still fifteen minutes out.”
Rick makes a face. “How could they possibly be fifteen minutes out?” he asks. “We’ve kept them informed of the coordinates.”
Kono rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I know, but apparently we’ve gone a little off course,” she says and she glances toward the smugglers. “So we just have to sit tight until they get here.”
This is reasonable, even if Rick doesn’t want it to be. Fifteen minutes really isn’t that long. And since they’re playing this one by the book, leaving their perps unattended is probably bad form. Besides, there’s no reason to doubt his team is anything less than capable of handling the rest of the case without him.
Yet...
Rick’s shoulders slump; he looks at Kono uncertainly. During the chase, she had been completely with it, confident, and frighteningly capable. Now, she looks like she did when they were back in that van. A rookie.
Which is what Rick feels like again, all of a sudden.
He glances at their captives. They’re secure and disarmed. They’re handcuffed to the boat, far away from each other, both hands above their heads. There’s no possibility they’ll escape.
He glances at their boat again. It’s moored nearby, ready and able to go.
Rick chews his lip, the gun heavy in his hands. He feels like a rookie when he’s acting like a rookie. And the rookie is the one who plays backup and follows orders unnecessarily. He knows sometimes it’s important to stay back, to play a lesser part, but not all the time.
Sometimes he gets treated like the rookie because he doesn’t act like a full fledged member of the team. That’s why the chase had worked so well, even despite all odds. Rick had believed he could do it. Kono had, too. Their blind faith in that had changed everything.
And yet, here they are.
Rick looks at the prisoners again. They’re not going anywhere, Rick realizes. They don’t need a babysitter.
He glances back at the boat.
He looks at Kono. “You know,” he starts, as conversationally as he can. “They’re secure.”
Kono frowns, looking over at the prisoners, toting her gun higher.
Rick hedges, inclining his head toward her. “The Coast Guard is on their way.”
“In fifteen minutes,” Kono says with a slow but knowing nod.
“That’s not so long,” Rick says.
Her face shifts, and she nods. “Not long at all.”
“They won’t miss us,” he says.
“And with your CIA status, it’s better if you’re not here,” Kono says readily.
“Good point,” Rick agrees quickly.
“So maybe we should--” she says, jerking her head toward their boat.
Rick shrugs. “I think we should--”
Neither of them finish the sentence.
It’s a matter of minutes before Kono has their boat powered up again and they’re headed back toward the coordinates where they last saw their teammates. Kono is at the wheel, and they’re going so quickly across the water that Rick has to brace himself. Over the roar of the engine and the whooshing of the wind, Rick yells, “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?”
There’s a moment of blank uncertainty on her face before she shakes her head. “No, we get a lot of leeway,” she calls back.
“We were given direct orders,” he reminds her, as much as he reminds himself.
“And we followed them,” she says, nodding readily. Then she shrugs, eyes still on the water in front of them. “Mostly.”
“The spirit of them, anyway,” Rick offers, trying to be helpful.
The doubt is enough, though, that they lapse into uncomfortable silence. Rick is going through his mental list of defenses, including any snippet of blackmail he can conjure up, to dissuade any lectures his team may hope to give.
Those thoughts vanish, though, when Kono points and says, “There, we’re coming up on them.”
Rick strains his eyes but the scene on the horizon is coming up fast. As they approach, Rick realizes that it’s just two boats - where there used to be three.
For a moment, Rick’s not sure what to make of it. His mind stalls while he tries to apply his analytical processes to the situation because while he knows there are ample reasons for one boat to leave while leaving the other two, his instincts are telling him this is wrong. Very, very wrong.
It’s possible that they split up; they took the suspects back in one boat and left the other boat to secure the scene. Maybe there’s more investigative work to be done. Maybe there are jurisdictional concerns that Michael is carefully trying to circumvent.
Maybe.
And maybe not.
The ODS is good. Scary good in a way that makes Rick want to bang his head against a wall and still get back up and take notes. Good, but decidedly not lucky.
So when Rick’s gut tells him that something is wrong, he knows enough to trust it, even when it doesn’t want to.
Kono must have the same fears because her face is tense, and her movements are harsh and abrupt as she brings them in closer. It seems to take hours to get them there, and when Kono pulls the boat hard to port to make a sudden stop near the scene, Rick’s already moving down the deck to get a better view.
But no matter what view he gets, it doesn’t improve the picture that’s starting to be made clear to him.
As Kono inches them alongside the first vessel, Rick realizes that the two boats there are ones he recognizes. Not from his grunt work or the files, but because they match the on he’s in. Standard issue HPD boats, probably taken without paperwork, too. That means that Casey and Michael are still here. That means that the boat that’s missing is Ito’s.
Ito’s boat is the one that shouldn’t be missing. Because either Ito and his crew got away or those charges did more damage than Rick wants to consider.
Because if Ito’s boat is missing then Billy’s missing...
Then Rick sees Ito’s gang, tied up and secured to Casey’s boat. But there’s no one guarding them, and the only person at the helm is Chin, who seems to be barking orders into a radio.
Rick’s hesitating, but Kono’s pressing by him. “Did you get them?”
At first, it’s not clear if she’s asking about Ito and his crew, but somehow Rick knows better. Because there’s only one thing pressing on his mind, one piece missing to this puzzle.
Chin is grim as he pulls away from the radio. “Pulled them out of the boat before it sank,” he says.
Which, Rick can tell is the good news. His stomach flutters as he braces instinctively for the bad.
“Neither was breathing,” Chin continues, and the words sound hard as his jaw works. “We got them breathing, but the Med-Evac chopper is on its way.”
It is the bad news but it’s not the worst news and as Rick stands there blinking, Kono scales the rail, making the small leap toward the other vessel. She lands neatly on the deck, moving forward without looking back.
For a second, Rick just stares after her. For a rookie, Kono Kalakaua has her share of surprises.
As he tries to follow suit, he realizes she’s full of more surprises than he might expect, especially since he almost misses the jump and comes dangerously close to showing himself as the landlocked CIA operative that he normally is.
Still, he hits the deck and even if he’s less graceful than Kono about it, he’s still dry.
Besides, he realizes quickly that no one is watching him except for Ito and his men and while Rick likes to keep up appearances, impressing criminals is low on his priority list. Not at the bottom perhaps, and on a normal day, maybe - but it’s not a normal day. And today, of all days, Rick really has more important things to worry about, like the fact that while the criminals have nothing better to do than to glower at everyone regarding their impending fate, his team is far too preoccupied to even care if he’s there or not.
On his feet, feeling more or less with it, he can see his team clearly now. Michael is on his knees, propping Billy up while Casey has a hand on the Scot’s wrist, presumably counting the beats of his heart. Billy is on his side, his chest visibly heaving as he takes in grating breaths that Rick can hear from where he’s standing.
Even so, Billy is trying to speak. “It’s not so bad,” he says, breaking off with a round of hacking. “A little water--” He coughs again. “--right down the gullet--”
Casey glares at him. “Which is only made worse by your incessant chatter,” he says. “If there’s ever been a time to shut up--”
Billy shakes his head, still gasping. “Never will such a time exist--”
This time when he coughs, he nearly curls in on himself and it’s all Michael can do to keep the Scotsman’s head from hitting the deck hard. This time, Billy doesn’t quite recover and Casey leans closer, trying to get Billy to look at him with minimal success.
It’s an unsettling scene, but it’s repeated nearly exactly with Detective Williams, who seems to be taking his situation with a little less grace than Billy. Whereas Billy is trying to make light, Danny is leaning toward melodramatics.
Although, Rick has to wonder, maybe the melodrama is warranted, all things considered.
Regardless, the smaller man’s ranting is something to behold: “No, I don’t think I’m overreacting--” He, too, breaks off with a round of coughing that has McGarrett wincing. “--I drowned, you idiot! And I don’t even like the water!”
McGarrett is trying to say something comforting and Kono is there now, too, leaning over and trying to offer support. Danny tries to eschew them, but he doesn’t have the strength, and before he can protest further, he deteriorates into coughing.
Rick moves forward, not sure what to do but still feeling like he needs to do something. He hovers over his teammates, swallowing back his fear. “How is he?”
Michael looks up, somewhat grave.
Casey gives him a plaintive stare. “How do you think it is?” he asks shortly. “Billy decided to see if he was a fish.”
“He wasn’t,” Michael added somewhat unnecessarily.
Billy looks up, still gasping. “But I gave it a valiant effort,” he says. “I--”
He coughs again, even harder this time, and when it doesn’t stop, his face starts to turn red with the obvious effort.
“That’s because people aren’t suppose to spend so much time in the water!” Williams exclaims next to him. He sucks in hard, wincing and choking slightly.
“And they’re also not supposed to talk themselves into unconsciousness,” McGarrett chides, and there’s both affection and concern in his voice.
Uncurling slightly, Billy looks ready to comment but he can’t catch his breath. Rick feels a little helpless in this but there’s nothing he can do. Nothing that will help, not even as Billy continues to gulp before his face drains of color and his eyelids flutter closed and his body drops back limply even as he continues to labor for air.
Casey hisses a curse and Michael looks up, the anxiety in his posture barely hidden.
It’s getting worse, Rick realizes. Things with the ODS are rarely straightforward; it’s often a game of one step forward and two steps back and this seems to be no different. But with this kind of brush with death, Rick doesn’t want to know what the steps back could be.
Somewhere in the distance, Rick hears the beat of helicopter rotors and as he looks over his shoulders, he sees the speck on the horizon.
“Danny?” McGarrett asks. “Danny!”
Rick turns back around, and Danny’s back is ramrod straight, his entire body trembling while McGarrett and Kono look on helplessly. Chin is on the radio still, voice pitching with demand.
It’s getting worse.
This is what Rick expected but it’s also what he feared and for everything he’s done today, he feels impotent now.
“Martinez!” Michael barks.
Rick startles. Michael is look up at him, and if his face looks tense, Rick at least knows it’s not really directed at him.
“I need you to come here,” Michael orders.
Instinctively, Rick obeys, and he goes closer. When Michael nods downward, Rick goes to his knees and he’s about to ask what Michael needs when Billy is being transferred into his hands. Before Rick can protest, the Scot’s weight is shifted and it’s all Rick can do to support him before his head falls to the wood planks below them.
“Keep him on his side and keep his head as even as possible,” Michael orders.
“And don’t drop him,” Casey tells him, still manning his position next to Billy.
Rick blinks, too surprised to manage much else, and Michael gets to his feet. He’s about to ask a question - any question, really, Rick just feels like he needs to say something at this point - but Billy’s breaths are railing and the sound of the chopper is closer now and Rick thinks how if he’d followed orders, he’d still be in the van on dry land.
Safer, less stressful. But this is where Rick needs to be. Where he’s supposed to be. If Michael or McGarrett is surprised to see them, there’s really too much else going on to get into it. Rick suspects he might get a reprimand later, but only after Billy and Williams are okay.
They will be okay, Rick decides.
He looks down at Billy, sees the small tremor in his body now, the faint hint of blue still on his eyelids as he breathes opened mouth and eyes closed.
Where he belongs.
Michael is back now, but he’s not alone. He’s relaying information, running down the injuries and Rick watches as Casey is pulled away but is still somehow caught off guard when the same thing happens to him. There are things happening now, things being said, and Rick doesn’t quite hear it all but he still understands.
Understands as the medic assesses Billy and Detective Williams. Understands as IVs are started, as oxygen masks is placed over their faces. Understands when the stretchers are lowered and both are secured. Understands the small squeeze of the hand that McGarrett offers Williams before he’s lifted off the boat and into the waiting chopper.
Understands as Billy waits his turn, eyelids half open again and still looking for his team. And they’re all there. Without fail.
Understands Billy’s smile, even as he labors. Understands that it’s not okay yet, Billy’s still going to need a hospital and there’s more mess to unfurl before this is over. Billy looks awful, the 5-0 team looks bedraggled, and it’s not okay yet.
But it will be.
They all watch as Danny is secured in the chopper. They hold Billy’s gaze for one last moment before he, too, is lifted, stretcher swaying slightly in the wind before he’s secured on the other side of the chopper. When the medic loads back up, the chopper is gone, leaving 5-0, the ODS, and Ito’s gang alone on the open waters.
In all, it feels a bit anticlimactic.
It also feels a little like relief.
They are silent as the chopper disappears and then Michael turns his gaze to Rick inquisitively. “I thought I told you to stay in the van,” he says.
It’s true, and no matter what Rick’s convictions may be, Michael has the ability to make Rick feel sheepish. “Well,” he says, shrugging a little. “You technically have no jurisdiction here.”
Behind them, Casey smirks. Michael’s eyes narrow.
Nearby, McGarrett pins Kono with an equally curious look. “And I thought I told you we needed you as backup.”
“And I was,” Kono says earnestly.
“I told you to stay in the van,” McGarrett amends.
Kono blinks innocently. “I know your kind of backup, boss,” she says. “Besides, I figured it was up to me to show our new CIA friends how we do things in Hawaii.”
There’s a generalized scoff at that, and it’s hard to tell who finds that more audacious - Michael or Steve.
Ultimately, Rick figures it probably doesn’t matter. He grins, clapping Kono on the shoulder. “I think you’d be surprised to find that things in Hawaii aren’t so different from things in the CIA.”
At that, Michael laughs.
Even Steve’s face breaks after a moment into a tired smile. “Well,” he says, head bowed in acceptance before he looks back up at them all again. “I suppose that much is true by now.”
And no one has it in them to disagree.
-o-
The end of the mission is always like taking a breath of fresh air.
Except, of course, when breathing feels like a slow and effortful torture, where each breath is forced through his lungs with a spike of pain that threatens to close this throat entirely.
And really, although the oxygen mask is delivering pure oxygen, it feels too circulated somehow and Billy knows the difference.
But still, the idea of the thing is still valid.
The mission is over and that feels damn good, metaphorically speaking.
And really, Billy will take metaphorically since it’s about the only part of him that feels good.
The first few hours had been a blur of lights and noise and he’d been carted to and fro, poked and prodded and ultimately sedated and put in a room for observational purposes. Now that he’s awake, Billy is far more aware of exactly what happened to him.
The stiffness in his face is from the beating, no doubt, which he still remembers with some clarity. It blurs somewhat only because Billy’s endured his share of fights and one is the same as the rest, although getting bashed around at sea is somewhat distinctive, all things considered.
The chafing on his wrists is a more poignant sort of pain, and even though they’ve been bandaged, Billy imagines it’ll be quite some time before he can walk around in short sleeves again. Handcuffs will do that to person, and it’s a pity that Ito’s men are so old school because Billy knows that zip ties generally do not cause quite so much damage.
The wheeze in his lungs is most certainly the whole drowning issue, which is probably Billy’s least favorite memory of the mission. If certain things are blurry, the sensation of needing air is ever present in Billy’s mind and sometimes when he’s drifted off, he still comes to with a terrified gasp, looking for air that he’s readily relieved to find in ample supply.
He somewhat wonders if the dull but persistent headache has something to do with how long he was under, though the doctors will not specify and his team has been rather tongue in cheek about the entire ordeal.
That just leaves the ache in his chest, which indicates bruised ribs, and Billy somewhat prefers not to consider the full implications of that, but he figures that his team’s reticence in the aftermath is inexorably related.
There’s also a throbbing pain in his left pinky toe that he can’t quite pinpoint, which makes it almost more disconcerting than the rest.
With all of this on his mind, and with his team’s need to tie up the loose ends with 5-0, Billy’s rather glad that he has a roommate for this hospital stay.
“I don’t see the point in all these wires,” Danny gripes from the next bed. He’s holding his hand out, letting the IVs flap in the air. “I’m like some kind of damn puppet. And how do they expect me to pee with all this stuff?”
“Well, I imagine that’s what the metal pan next to your bed is for,” Billy returns as seriously as he can.
“I’m not going to pee in a pan,” Danny shoots back. Even though he’s still breathing through an oxygen mask at intermittent intervals, the detective somehow manages to make his words carry their typical bite, which is no small feat as far as Billy is concerned.
“Well, then, I’m sure I can page our lovely call nurse,” Billy suggests.
Danny snorts. “You mean the torturer?” he asks. “I swear, that woman is certifiably insane. And worse, she has the bedside manner of a grumpy hippopotamus.”
“Well, I suppose that’s better than a water buffalo,” Billy says.
Danny stops his ranting to look at Billy. “What?”
Billy shrugs innocently. “Rabid creatures, water buffalo,” he says with a knowing nod. “Quite unpleasant.”
At that, Danny stares at him. Hard. Perplexed. “You have issues, you know that?”
“Aye,” Billy agrees in total good nature. “One doesn’t usually become a spy because they are completely well adjusted to life in the normal world.”
Danny looks ready to argue that point before he realizes that there’s no point to argue. “Did you just agree with me?” he asks instead, almost incredulous.
Billy can’t help it if he grins. “I often find that the way to infuriate a willing opponent is through agreement, not denial.”
“So you’re trying to drive me crazy,” Danny concludes.
“Come now,” Billy cajoles, wincing slightly at the pull in his chest from so much talking. He’s not about to let it deter him, but it is a pressing reminder of what he’s just endured. “Surely we have gotten past that point with all we’ve been through.”
“You mean the part where we got abducted by gang members, beaten and drowned?” Danny asks sarcastically.
Billy takes a deep breath from the oxygen before nodding. “Those are the things that join men’s souls.”
Danny shakes his head. “No, those are the things that kill men’s souls,” he retorts. “And I hold you responsible.”
Billy frowns. “I take that accusation quite personally.”
“Good,” Danny returns, hand still swinging through the air. “Because I meant it quite personally.”
Collecting a breath, Billy shakes his head. “You know, for someone who just came back from the brink of death, you still harbor a great many resentments,” he says. “Most people would see such an incidence as an opportunity, grasp a new lease on life.”
“I liked my old lease, thank you very much,” Danny says primly, shifting in his hospital bed and crossing his arms obstinately over his chest. “Which is why I very much resent the fact that you and your little intrepid band of CIA agents almost got me killed.”
It’s all Billy can do to not roll his eyes. The first few times this accusation came up, Billy had taken it seriously.
The subsequent five times, it had lost its emotional punch, no matter how sincere the detective sounded. It’s clear to Billy that Detective Danny Williams has to talk his way through problems, which is a trait Billy can readily understand. Even if he himself prefers to do so in a more friendly manner, Billy knows the comfort of words and does not begrudge such things to any other living soul.
Accordingly, Billy smiles. “Such are the risks and perils of our noble line of work,” he says. Then he pins Danny with a look. “Surely, a man such as yourself would not feel satisfied with letting a criminal of Ito’s depth just get away? Even if it does involve some pain.”
Danny’s eyebrows go up. “Some pain?” he asks. He motions to himself. “My chest feels like I got sat on by an elephant and I have to deal with the lingering reality that I received CPR. That’s not some pain. That’s a lot of pain. That’s dying pain.”
“But all in the name of the greater good,” Billy continues.
Danny snorts again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“You can try to deny it, but I believe I know better,” Billy continues, not letting the detective out of his knowing look. “I told you before, you and I, we’re really not so different.”
Danny eyes him with something similar to disdain. “You’re perpetually happy and annoying,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand. “Me, I’m sane.”
Billy waves a hand of his own, again ignoring the persistent pull in his chest. “Yes, yes, but we’re after the same things.”
“The only things you seem to be after are destruction and chaos,” Danny accuses.
Billy ignores him. “Truth and justice,” he counters instead.
“Oh,” Danny says mockingly. “That’s what you call it.”
“It does come in many forms,” Billy offers.
“And it puts you in the hospital?” Danny asks sarcastically.
Billy shrugs his shoulders, hedging. “It is an unfortunate side effect from time to time,” he relents. But then he nods at the other man, as earnest as possible. “But it’s worth it. What we accomplished today, despite what we almost lost, it’s worth it.”
For a long moment, Danny looks ready to argue. It seems to be his default, and it’s only with actual thought that the detective seems to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. Finally, he sighs, the fight going out of his body and the weariness more visible than before. His face is still pale, the stubble pronounced as he takes slightly wheezing breaths.
Then Danny looks at him, suddenly still. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I suppose it is.”
In this, there is sudden solidarity. It’s been there all along, Billy knows, even if men such as themselves rarely give voice to such things. But Billy knows that the heart of a hero beats in many a man, not just spies, and he’s never seen one quite as jaded and still as genuine as Detective Danny Williams.
Billy respects that; in some ways, he rather likes it. And in that moment, he sees that Danny feels the same.
Then Danny takes a breath from the oxygen mask before shifting and straightening again. “At least, death by Japanese gangster might be worth it,” Danny says. “But death by bladder infection doesn’t seem fair. Because, really, they expect me to pee in that pan?”
Billy has to laugh, shaking his head and settling back contentedly.
Danny’s arms start up again, his tone almost apoplectic as he continues. “I drowned, which doesn’t remove the use of my legs,” he continues with agitation. “So I’m not sure how that precludes me from using the bathroom like a normal person!”
And Billy just smiles as the rant picks up speed. He trusts this is how their teams will find them when they come back and they all leave this place together. Because despite all their differences, there’s really more the same, and Billy finds more than a little comfort in that.
-o-
As a spy, Michael spends countless hours prepping for a mission. Intel can take years to obtain and confirm and the execution of a mission in the field can be a complicated and drawn out procedure. With all that goes into it, Michael figures that they’re entitled to as little aftermath as they can get away with most of the time.
After all, in the field, the job is to go in and get out and leave as few loose ends as possible. There are some reports to fill out and some debriefings to attend, and then it’s back to the intel, safe and quiet in the confines of their generic office back at Langley.
Michael likes this part of the job. He doesn’t have to say goodbye to anyone because no one in the field knows who he really is. He doesn’t have to linger for closure because the entire point is not to make a lasting impression.
That’s what he’d really like to do now, if he’s honest. This mission has been more than somewhat difficult and he’s feeling restless for the familiarity of the stark CIA hallways. Ito has been turned over to the proper authorities and the dominoes are already falling from the sudden dissolution of his empire, and that’s what Michael came here for.
But with Billy in the hospital, lingering is all Michael can do.
The hard parts are all taken care of. Since they helped on this mission off the record, there’s nothing they have to add to the final record anyway. The 5-0 team has lived up to their part of the agreement, and no one has looked twice at Michael or his team in connection with anything regarding the bust.
This has given them time to deal with Billy, which on many levels, Michael is grateful for. It’s never easy to see one of his own taken down, and his memories of breathing for Billy are still pretty vivid. No matter how optimistic the doctors are about Billy’s prognosis, Michael prefers to keep his own vigil.
Still, it all makes for a long night, and dealing with Billy semi-conscious and drugged is almost more work than anything else. But he’s awake and coherent now and the doctors feel good about his breathing and there’s already talk of sending him home.
Which means Michael may finally get to move on, just like he wants to.
In preparation, he’s sent Casey and Rick back to the hotel to close up. Even with their covers, Michael doesn’t like to leave a trail, and he trusts Casey and Rick to ensure that there’s nothing of their presence left behind, even by coincidence. He’s been evicted from Billy’s room at Detective Williams’ insistence: apparently the shorter man doesn’t think that physical exams should be public viewing.
Billy had rolled his eyes, but Michael had acquiesced. After getting a cup of coffee, he’d settled in the waiting room - well, waiting.
He’s so intent on his waiting that he almost doesn’t see Steve McGarrett walk in.
He still does, though, because Michael’s a spy. He doesn’t know how to turn that off, even if he did want to.
As it is, he still feigns something of surprise when Steve walks up to him. “They okay?” the SEAL asks, nodding absently in the direction of Danny and Billy’s room.
It’s an answer that McGarrett clearly knows the answer to because he’s been there almost as much as Michael has. He left for a few hours in the morning at the governor’s behest, but he’s talked to the doctors and knows the details of their prognoses.
And yet, it’s still a question Michael understands. He smiles. “Just getting another check over before the doctor considers clearing them for discharge,” he says.
Steve’s eyebrows go up. “Already?”
Michael shrugs halfway. “Not quite yet, but we’re not exactly the types to stick around,” he explains.
Understanding dawns on Steve’s features. “So you’re looking to head out soon?”
“Since technically we’re here on vacation,” Michael says with a nod.
Steve offers a half smile before sighing and settling in the chair next to Michael. For a moment, they sit in silence, watching the bustle of the hospital.
Finally, Michael says, “You know, you didn’t stick to the plan.”
Steve frowns, glancing toward him.
“When you approached Ito’s boat,” Michael clarifies. “We were supposed to wait until after the charges had disabled the boat before going in. Going in early tipped them off; we’re lucky they weren’t able to mobilize some kind of response.”
It’s a point that he’s gone over in his head. Michael isn’t one to second guess things - as far as he’s concerned, what’s done is done and all is well that end’s well - but this has left him curious. Not regarding the plan but McGarrett’s implementation of it.
Steve shifts in his seat, brow furrowed. “So?”
“So, for someone who talked so much about the plan,” Michael says, letting the words linger.
This time, Steve’s frown is tinged with annoyance. “The plan was falling apart.”
“We still had a job to do,” Michael countered.
“Yeah, bringing our people home,” Steve interjects roughly. “Alive. Or is that too hard for your rogue CIA brain to figure out?”
That is the bottom line of all this and has been since the beginning. It’s why Michael had known from the start this makeshift alliance could work, despite all odds. Because Steve McGarrett is not so unlike him, and where they are different, it’s still for the same reasons. It’s not just about the mission - though, it’s clear to Michael they both hold it in high esteem - it’s about the people doing the mission.
It’s that confidence in his teammates that made Steve McGarrett take on armed gang members in a lonely alley. It’s that confidence that made him distrust Michael from the outset. And Michael respected that if only because he felt the same.
It’s also where they can find common ground when all is said and done.
Sitting back, Michael tilts his head. “No,” he says after the question has lingered. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”
The answer is not the one Steve’s expecting. His stare turns incredulous.
“I deviated from mission protocol and tracked Ito to Hawaii because it was the right thing to do,” Michael explains. “It was a risk - and a big one at that - but I had to do it. I even had to put my team’s fate in your hands. Telling you we were CIA went against every instinct I had. But it was the right thing for the mission and the right thing for my men.”
Steve holds his gaze, face still set dubiously.
“Because my best bet of getting my men out of this mission in one piece was to trust you,” he continues. “Doing it alone made us vulnerable. Trusting you, by contrast, was the lesser of two evils. Now I can see that it was the right choice to make.”
“You used us,” Steve says with a hint of accusation.
“Just like you used us,” Michael returns. “Tell me, how happy was the governor to have Ito in custody under her supervision?”
Steve can’t quite hide the telltale trace of blush on his cheeks.
“So, yeah, I get it,” Michael says. “I’ve been a leader of this team for six years. I have to decide what corners to cut and what risks to take. I don’t always like it, and I don’t always make the right choice, but I do what needs to be done.”
It’s as much as Michael knows how to say, as much as he’s ever told anyone outside the CIA. It’s probably too much, probably compromising more than he should, but if he’s breaking all his own rules, somehow he trusts it’s for the right reasons all over again.
Steve is silent for a long moment, still watching Michael intently. Were he not trained as a spy with countless years of experience in the field, this might have bothered Michael. As it is, he holds himself still, head high, and trusts that the SEAL will see what he needs to see.
Finally, Steve draws a breath, he nods slightly and there’s understanding in his eyes. Maybe not quite friendship but, maybe he can admit it now, respect.
Steve sits back and his jaw works. “Does it get easier?” he asks.
And that’s a good question. The question Michael’s been asking himself since he took this job in the first place. If somehow it gets easier to make the tough calls, if it gets easier to put the lives of people he cares about on the line and hope that he’s doing the right thing for the right reasons.
In all these years, Michael still has the same answer.
Smiling wryly, he shakes his head. “No,” he says, and if he’s told McGarrett any lies, this is the truth that rectifies everything. “But it’s always worth trying.”
-o-
The airport is busy.
Rick figures this is probably a perpetual problem in a place like Hawaii. With so much to offer in such a small total area, airports are in high demand. Still, it’s something to watch all the people coming and going, the vast array of khaki shorts and brightly colored shirts to make the entire scene complete.
It’s something to consider, Rick thinks - how normal people live. He remembers sitting on the beach when this mission started, too concerned about the mission to pay much attention to everything else.
He wonders what it’s like for the rest of the world. These people are coming and going, taking a vacation or returning home. Simple pleasure in a simply beautiful place.
With all the hunting gangsters and saving his teammates, that little detail escaped Rick, but it’s hard to miss it now that they’re finally leaving it behind.
In the terminal, they sit loosely together. Casey snags himself a cup of coffee while Michael breaks open a new book he bought at the airport bookstore. Billy’s lounging with his sunglasses on, looking relaxed but Rick knows he’s really watching the crowds out of habit.
For his part, Rick is watching his team. They never seem to miss anything, from the moves of a gangster to the beauty of a beach. Rick’s not sure how they do that, how they can multitask so effortlessly, how spy work is nothing more than reflex, but it’s still damn impressive.
Everything about them is damn impressive. From what they do in the field to how they are afterward.
Because this mission has been less than perfect. Michael’s plan almost failed and Casey’s charges almost blew the entire thing to hell. Billy almost died and yet, here they are. As laid back as the rest of the people, as though they’d done nothing but lounge at the beach.
“You’re worrying far too much,” Billy says suddenly.
Rick startles, glancing toward the Scotsman.
Billy hasn’t moved; his posture is relaxed, sunglasses still in place. There’s still a slight rasp in his breathing but he hides it well and he moves with a hint of tenderness, but that’s the only lingering trace of the injuries he sustained.
Billy turns his head slightly to look at Rick. “The mission is over, lad,” he says. “That’s the time to turn your brain off and you’ve still got yours in overdrive.”
It’s really not a surprise that Billy can sense this. It’s still kind of annoying, though.
Casey takes a sip of his coffee and cast a palliative look toward Rick. “You create extra stress for yourself,” he says. “It’ll cause you undue emotional distress. Not to mention it’ll age you ten years.”
Rick frowns at him.
“Seriously,” Billy continues before Rick can mount any kind of defense. “What could possibly be bothering you at this juncture?”
There are a lot of answers to that question. He laughs. “It was a close mission,” he says as honestly as he can. His teammates are skilled at lying to him, but it’s a talent Rick hasn’t quite perfected, not around people he has to think of as friends. “For a while...”
Casey rolls his eyes and Billy shifts slightly.
Michael shakes his head. “You’re focusing on the wrong things,” he says.
Rick remembers being in the van, remembers hearing that Billy was taken. He remembers the boat and Kono and coming back in time to see Billy lifted onto the helicopter.
“For a while, I wanted to throw my 5-0 counterpart into the water for being such a stubborn and prideful bastard,” Michael continues. “But it’s not the small moments that matter; those are things that don’t make it into reports. It’s the big picture.”
“The details will always get cumbersome in the aftermath,” Casey adds. “Holistic analysis is necessary.”
“And besides,” Billy says, a small twinkle in his eyes. “This is Hawaii. We’re on vacation. It’s an awfully nice big picture, wouldn’t you say?”
It seems too simple. It always seems too simple. How his team manages to make the most complicated and convoluted things seem natural is beyond him, how they are able to know all the details and still gloss them over is almost infuriating.
But then again, maybe it is that simple. Maybe it’s not just the sun and the sand, but his team and the mission they’re on together.
Finally, Rick sighs. “Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I guess it’s really not so bad.”
-o-
All things considered, this is a case Steve is happy to put behind him.
It turned out well, that much is true. They apprehended Ito and a large portion of his inner circle. They also picked up the smugglers out of Canada, which was an added coup, especially since some digging by Kono put them in connection with a wide range of illegal activity along the American pacific coastline. The governor is thrilled; the news outlets are lauded the bust as nothing short of heroic. It’s damn good press and Steve knows he’s building up the credibility of his team and storing more than a few favors with this one.
And yet, with the paperwork filed and the statements issued to the press, there’s nothing Steve wants more than to go home, crack open a beer, and rest.
But he has one thing he has to do first.
Pulling into the parking lot, Steve gets out of his truck, squinting up. The hospital is never his favorite place to go, and knowing one of his team is on the inside makes it even less appealing. But today, it’s okay.
Today, Danny’s going home.
It’s only been a few days, but Steve knows the way to Danny’s room by heart. When he gets there, he finds Danny up and dressed, milling about as he tries to get his things together. He also discovers that he’s not the only one there to see Danny out. Chin and Kono are in the two empty seats, watching in bemusement as Danny presumably gathers his things.
“Oh, so you too?” Danny asks, giving Steve a cursory glance.
Steve lifts his eyebrows. “Me too?”
“You also seem to think I need a chaperone,” he mutters, gesturing toward Chin and Kono, who just grin at the insinuation.
Steve relaxes, shrugging a little. “Last time I left you by yourself you got yourself kidnapped and drowned,” he reminds Danny. “I’d rather be safe than sorry this time.”
“Ha, ha,” Danny says sarcastically. “I’m sorry my peril was such an unending burden for you.”
“I’m just saying,” Steve says.
Danny rolls his eyes. “Do I need to remind you that none of this was my idea?” he asks. “This was our spy friends’ faults; we were just along for the ride.”
“They did have a knack for finding trouble,” Chin says. “No way in a million years on any other case would those charges set off like that.”
“And they were pretty persistent,” Kono adds.
There’s truth to all this, and Steve lifts one shoulder in tacit acquiescence. “I’m still kind of glad the CIA was in on this one,” he admits.
Chin and Kono look somewhat surprised, but Danny’s expression is nothing short of sheer incredulity. “You’re kind of glad?” he repeats. “You were the one who wanted to arrest them and bring them up on made up charges just for the hell of it.”
There is also quite a bit of truth to that, and Steve knows better than to deny it. “Yeah, well,” Steve says, almost sheepish. “Maybe I was being hasty.”
Danny stares. “Hasty?” he asks. “Did you actually just admit to being hasty?”
Steve rolls his eyes.
“No, no, really,” Danny says, hands moving now as he steps closer to Steve. “You, Steve McGarrett, are admitting to possibly acting without thinking? To making decisions without giving them proper care? To being unduly reckless in the face of potential danger and legal consequences?”
Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not that bad,” he protests.
Danny throws his arms up.
Chin eyes him, somewhat apologetic. “You are kind of stubborn about things.”
Steve snorts, eyes going to Kono.
She nods. “Sorry, boss,” she says.
Frowning, Steve glares at all of them. It feels a little petulant, but he knows it. More than that, he knows that it feels familiar; right. “Well,” he says, jutting his chin just slightly. “I’m sorry you all feel that way.”
Danny puts his hands out, almost in invitation. “We do feel that way,” he says. “But the fact that you’re missing is that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”
He says it casually, in the same tone as everything else, but Steve doesn’t miss the subtle shift. “You’re actually admitting that it’s not a bad thing?” he asks, brow wrinkled in total curiosity.
Danny sighs in melodramatic exasperation. “I mean maybe - just maybe,” he begins, holding up one finger in warning, “there’s a time and place for such ridiculous heroics and bending the rules.”
This is something Danny has believed since the beginning, although he’s never come out and said it. At least not to Steve. So the admission is telling. More than that, it’s surprising. Rocking back on his heels, Steve eyes Danny, a little smug. “Oh yeah?”
Danny glowers slightly. “I said maybe.”
“Maybe,” Steve repeats, nodding in encouragement. In the background, Chin is shaking his head and Kono’s smile is growing wider.
“I’m just saying, it seemed to work for the CIA and we got the bad guy and we’re all still alive,” Danny says, rambling disarmingly. “I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it had its merits.”
Steve won’t be so easily distracted from the main point. “So you’re saying my tactics work?” he asks.
Danny sighs again, hands flailing. “I’m saying time and place, Steven, time and place,” he says, using his fingers to punctuate the words. “Like when gangster are getting away or teammates are drowning - that sort of thing.”
Steve nods. “So I’m right,” he concludes.
Danny’s brow scrunches in infuriation. “Is that what I said?” he asks. Steve looks innocent and Danny turns in desperation to Chin and Kono. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
At that, Chin and Kono both roll their eyes. Chin pushes to his feet, patting Danny on the shoulder. “I’ll go pull the car up,” he says.
Kono is right behind him. Her hand trails on Danny’s arm. “If you’re ready to go home, anyway,” she says.
“Oh, I’m ready,” Danny says after her. “I’m more than ready.”
When Chin and Kono are gone, Steve is still smiling. It’s a little smug and it’s a little relieved and it’s mostly just that sense that everything is how it should be.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring at Danny until Danny stares back. “Something wrong?” Danny asks pointedly. He sounds annoyed, but Steve knows better.
Steve can’t help himself: he grins. “No,” he says, shaking his head.
“Oh, so the fact that I nearly died--”
“But you didn’t--”
“No thanks to you--”
“It wasn’t my case--”
“Oh, so now it wasn’t your case,” Danny says, his hands going out in exaggeration.
Steve has to laugh, chewing his bottom lip. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Maybe it was kind of my case.”
Danny gives him a look. “You know, if you had just admitted that in the beginning...”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I don’t have control issues.”
Danny snorts. “Yeah, and I don’t like to complain.”
Steve is about to respond but then he hears what Danny says.
Danny shrugs, smiling.
At that, Steve laughs, nodding his head. “I’m glad you’re okay, Danno.”
“Me, too,” Danny says, gathering his bag. “And I’m glad you went against protocol on this one. You know. To save my life.”
Steve’s grin widens and he claps Danny on the arm. “Any time.”
Danny nods good naturedly as he makes his way to the door. “Let’s not make a habit of it, though, okay?”
Steve frowns. “You don’t want me to save your life?”
“No,” Danny counters. “I’d rather not get involved with a CIA mission and end up drowning on a regular basis. Is that so much to ask?”
As they walk out into the hall and back to life and work, Steve has to smile one more time. “No,” he says. “I guess not.”
END